We set up his apartment, and he wears pride on his face. He has done it. His lifelong dream of adulting. Yet, as he beams, my heart wrenches apart. Where has the time gone? Just yesterday, he followed me around the house, drowning out my thoughts with his endless chatter. Could I have listened more? I should have listened more. Now. He is gone. Not really gone, only a few miles away. But never, never will he be my baby boy again. How can I rest knowing he is not in the room next to mine? He’s not here to lift me when sad or challenge me when he’s mad. I wanted him out as much as he wanted to leave. Didn’t I? But he’s gone. The world we created together; gone.
Our dreams and adventures.
My teaching moments.
Gone.
I didn’t teach him enough. I should have valued him more. Why did I want him to stop talking so I could do my own thing? He is no longer here. I want to hear his voice. I want to see him go through his day. But he is gone. Will he be safe? Will he lock his doors at night and not let strangers in? There are so many scary people around him that I can no longer keep out. I can’t protect him. What if he keeps his stove on while he sleeps? What if he doesn’t hear his alarm and misses work? I was wrong.
Don’t grow up.
Please come home, my baby boy.
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My Baby Boy
by Stephanie Daich
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